


Terms of Endearment

by Redamber79



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is So Done with Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, POV Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redamber79/pseuds/Redamber79
Summary: Prompt: call me bro one more time and watch me fucking kiss you.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 184





	Terms of Endearment

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to elephino_forthehalibut and Banshee for beta-ing for me!

"Please don't call me 'bro'," Cas muttered, his voice heavy with irritation.

Dean and Sam looked at each other: Dean confused, Sam amused. 

"Sure thing, buddy," Dean replied, which only prompted a full-body eye roll from Cas, his back arching as his eyes rolled up to stare heavenward for patience, as though heaven caused anything but trouble these days. “What?”

Cas didn’t answer, simply disappeared into the depths of the bunker. Sam clapped him on the shoulder with a look that said he was an idiot, but Dean was at a loss. He called everyone buddy if they were a guy, and chicks got called sweetheart. That was how he worked. That Cas didn’t want to be called bro… that stung a little. Cas was family, right? He’d said he loved them all, so what gives?

Something inside Dean’s chest squirmed at the memory, but he brushed it off as having to watch his best friend almost die. Again.

Sam looked at him expectantly, as though waiting for him to do something, and Dean rolled his eyes. 

“What’s your problem?”

“Deeaaaannn!” Sam drawled, his lips pursed in a classic bitch-face number twelve.

“Alright, if you and Cas are gonna be all moody and shit, I’ve got a Busty Asian Beauties mag and a beer callin’ my name. See ya tomorrow, bitch!”

“Jerk,” Sam replied reflexively, but his expression was disappointed as Dean walked away.

Dean wandered down the hall with a beer in hand and closed the door to his room firmly. Settling in on his bed, he unlaced his boots and kicked them to the cold concrete with a  _ whump,  _ then his jeans followed, along with his flannel. Laying back against his pillows, he rummaged in the nightstand for the newest edition of Busty Asian Beauties.

He flipped through casually, waiting for something to rev his engine, when he flashed back to the hunt they’d just finished the night before. Cas has pulled his avenging angel routine, swooping in and laying waste to three vamps in a matter of seconds. The first with a flung angel blade, and then two more were lifted straight off their feet and taken to the ground, their eyes burnt ashes before their backs could hit the dirt.

His cock twitched against his stomach and Dean glanced down guiltily. It was just adrenaline, he reminded himself, leftover from the fight, the near-death experience. Affirmation of life, some new-age bullshit that Sam--nope, no thinking about him while wanking. Dean screwed his eyes shut with a grimace, his mind flitting back to the strange conversation with Cas. His hand slowed, and yet his cock perked up. Well, maybe ‘bro’ wasn’t the right nickname for him. But Buddy was too casual, he called everyone that. What could he call Cas that showed the angel that he was family? He’d heard Crowley call Cas ‘Feathers’, and resented that he hadn’t thought of it first, because it was kinda hilarious.

‘Angel’ was too easy. ‘Honeybee’? Dean’s traitorous memory travelled back a handful of years to when Cas had lost his mind and shown up naked, covered in bees. Too weird. He remembered Rowena referring to him as that cutie-patootie angel, and snorted. His mind was drifting far afield now and he turned back to the magazine a little desperately, but none of the usual flavours were doing it for him tonight. Sighing heavily, he chucked the magazine back into the drawer and turned to his trusty laptop. The internet never failed to provide sufficient spankbank material; he surfed through a few sites before something caught his eye.

A dark, tousled head of hair, blue eyes, and a strong jaw behind a mask, with big, strong hands slowly stroking an impressive cock. Glancing at his door, he quickly rolled off the bed and made sure it was locked, then crawled back onto the memory foam before it had a chance to cool. Dean grabbed the lube from his drawer and settled, already stroking himself over his boxer briefs. He didn’t look too closely at why this particular video caught his attention, instead concentrated on the thick cock sliding through the large fist with a wet sucking sound, the head red and weeping precome that the guy used to slick down the shaft.

The man on the screen started grunting in time with his thrusts, and Dean tried to keep going, but the sound was all wrong, high pitched and desperate. Slamming the laptop shut, Dean rolled off the bed and grabbed his dead-guy robe, then left his room to head for the showers. Sure, they’d all taken turns cleaning up at the motel after the hunt last night, but that crappy joint had nothing on the bunker’s water pressure.

He soaped himself up leisurely, happily rolling his neck to relieve sore muscles. The fight with the vamps had been a rough one, and even with Cas’ appearance, Dean was sore. He wasn’t hurt, but he ached. Getting old, he supposed. Hell, Cas’ meat suit was aging slowly, but noticeably. He didn’t look the same as he had ten years past in that abandoned barn. His hair was still unmanageable, but his shoulders were broader, his chest and legs thicker. And his voice, that deep, rumbling rasp… Dean grunted in surprise as he found his cock standing at attention again, and he wrapped a callused hand around it, giving himself a few slow tugs while his mind wandered.

Cas was low on grace, being cut off from heaven. He wasn’t quite human, witness the smiting of the vamps the night before, but he was picking up human habits. Showers and food and sleep were on that list, but he was still rough on the process. Like last night, when he’d claimed the shower after Dean and emerged in only a towel, having forgotten to bring a change of clothes.

Dean had lent him a pair of sweats, and the angel had simply turned his back to pull them up, flashing Dean with an absolutely delectable set of thighs and that ass…

Dean’s breath quickened as his hand sped up, and he groaned softly, biting his lip to keep the sound from travelling too far. Heat welled up from his core and spilled over in a rush, and he braced himself against the shower wall, breathing heavily. Rinsing himself off quickly, Dean shut off the water with one heavy hand and reached for his towel. He dried himself quickly, then wrapped himself in his robe and stumbled off to bed.

He was almost asleep when he felt a familiar presence in the room. He’d long since stopped bitching at Cas for watching over him, it helped keep the nightmares at bay. It was reassuring, maybe even… sweet.

***

Dean woke the following morning well-rested and rolled out of bed humming  _ Ramble On. _ He slid into his slippers and made his way to the kitchen, where Cas was already pouring him a cup of coffee. Sniffing appreciatively, he sat at the table and sipped slowly.

“Dean,” Cas began, but Dean simply held up a finger with his eyes closed, then pointed at his coffee. He needed more caffeine to kick his brain into gear. An exaggerated huff of exasperation filled the silence, followed by footsteps as Cas left. He heard Cas growl a low greeting to Sam in the hallway, but kept his eyes closed, savouring the rich coffee.

“What did you do now, Dean?” Sam exclaimed as he appeared in the kitchen, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“What makes you think I did anything?” Dean protested, setting his mug down and slowly moving about the kitchen to fry some bacon and eggs.

“Because Cas looks pissed, and he only has  _ that _ expression when you’ve been a jerk. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Dean said sharply, then added as an afterthought “Bitch.”

“Dean, I’m serious, something’s bothering him, and you need to--”

Dean interrupted. “Cas is a big boy. If he’s got a problem with me, he can tell me himself.”

“Would you let him talk if he tried?” Sam asked, and Dean winced, his shoulders hunching defensively. “That’s what I thought. He’s not like me, he doesn’t know when you need space, so ease up on the guy. He’s already lost one family, don’t make him think he’s losing another.”

Dean slammed the frying pan onto the back element and glared at his brother. “You heard him yesterday. He doesn’t want to be family! He said so! We’re just a pit stop until the angels forgive him.”

“Funny, what I heard was he doesn’t want you to call him your brother.”

“That’s what I said!” Dean snarled, and Sam gave him a premium bitch-face.

“Dean, you’re my brother and I love you, but sometimes, you’re an idiot.”

“Geez, Sammy, tell me how you really feel,” Dean sulked. 

“Talk to Cas. Or maybe, try listening to him,” Sam suggested, then sighed, shaking his long hair out of his face as he straightened from the fridge. Quickly assembling an assortment of green crap, Sam made a smoothie, then poured it into a travel mug. “I mean it, Dean. You need to hear him instead of assuming.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get your sludge outta here,” Dean ordered, jerking his chin towards the door, and Sam gave another sigh, his lips pressed in a thin, judgemental line. At the same time, his eyes were wide and luminous in the worst sort of kicked-puppy expression that had always worked on Dean. He sighed. “Alright, I’ll talk to him. Happy?”

Sam gave him a grin and a nod, then slipped from the room to go for his early morning jog. How they were even related… Dean only ran when he was chasing something or being chased.

Speaking of running, he knew he’d better not avoid Cas or he’d never hear the end of it. Not that he didn’t  _ want _ to spend time with him. He was Dean’s best friend after all! So there was that weird tension sometimes, and the way his eyes seemed to want to follow the angel. Sure, he cared about him, that was all.

Grumbling to himself, he plated his food and ate mechanically, not even able to savour the bacon. Dean poured himself a second cup of coffee and wandered down the hall, looking for the angel. Finding him in the Dean cave watching TV, he sat in the second armchair and glanced over. Cas was watching Tombstone, and Dean grinned. Excellent choice. Dean cleared his throat and spoke.

“You wanted to talk, pal?” he asked, only to be pinned with a withering blue stare, and held up his hands defensively. “Whoa, Cas, what’s with the death-glare, dude?”

Cas let out a snort of exasperation, then turned off the TV. Rising from the chair, he headed for the door, and Dean went after him, catching him in the hall.

“Not now, Dean,” Cas growled, his voice tight and raspy, and Dean felt it shudder down his spine. 

“What gives, buddy?” Dean asked uncomprehendingly, and Cas whirled with a rustle of invisible wings, freezing Dean in his tracks as the angel stalked back towards him. “Bro, you okay?”

What could only be called a snarl crossed Cas’ features, and Dean thought maybe he was about to get his ass beat again when suddenly two large hands grabbed his shirt and pinned him to the hallway wall.

“I  _ said _ don’t call me that!” Cas snapped, then his lips found Dean’s, opened to retort and now far too busy for such mundane things as speech. Cas plundered his mouth, kissing him hot and desperate, and Dean found his hands were locked in the angel’s hair, pulling him closer. With a thought, Cas transported them to Dean’s room and bore him down on the bed, Dean clutching at the angel, his entire world spinning. 

Finally Cas let him up for air, and Dean gasped against his lips. Cas seemed breathless as well, his lips swollen and red from kissing. Dean rested his head against Cas’ shoulder as he caught his breath, then reached for Cas’ tie and slowly pulled him closer, kissing him gently, reverently. Cas groaned softly against his lips, and Dean smiled.

“Hey, there, sunshine,” he murmured, and Cas’ face lit up with happiness, a wide, gummy grin splitting his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied, and Dean shivered, certain he’d never tire of the way the angel said his name.

_ “Cas,”  _ he breathed, leaning in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Love Destiel? Over 18? Join us on Discord's [ Profound Bond ](https://discord.gg/rUFErcY) server for like-minded chats, friendly people, and inspiration for reading and writing!


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